By: Allison Grayhurst of mute despair where love is murdered by a flying breath, and old age is a house that never opens, the key was around your neck and suddenly, you were gone. Paint bubbles over into the killing flame….
By: Allison Grayhurst Speak to me in the pestilence of my afternoon, in the dungeon of my self-pity. Speak to me though love has stopped its singing and the arrows of wintry worries sting my weary drum. Speak to me to…
By: Allison Grayhurst the thinning years of a lifespan roped by bitter nightfall the volt of mourning that mourns the range of ambition to success the blind rodent that frees itself of self-preservation the hard days of unknowing that last beyond…
By: Keith Moul At its beginning forty years ago, this poem was formless and void. I don’t remember precisely a sequence of first days and nights, but with Ken there was energy of new light, separate from the dark, big…
By: Keith Moul Discerning fully its act, Genius breaks into a glass house, breaking glass but indifferent to its breaking felony LAW. Tiny splinters now attend Genius, inhibiting a full search. More clattering ensues, stark collapse of weakened walls. Genius understands…
By: Thomas Sanfilip Some time ago I visited the ruins of the ancient Greek city, Selinous, destroyed by the Carthaginians in a ten-day siege that left 16,000 dead, the city in flames, and a handful of survivors who managed to…
By: Debleena Majumdar The crumpled sheet of paper, Grease stains from yesterday’s Stale chop that been thrown at her, Was her treasure. Wolfing down the hard lump, she Had peered greedily at the paper. Unmindful of the darkness, If only…
By: Linda M Crate all you do is irritate me you are toxic to my health and my happiness so i’ve walked away our friendship was never much years of paltry things i always gave and you always took always…
By: Linda M Crate how many times must i say no before you realize i’ll never say yes? how many times must i say i don’t like you before it clicks? leave me alone i have no interest in dead…
By: Clive Aaron Gill Martha steered her pickup truck down the steep road from Valley Center towards the Escondido High School bus yard. Dawn spread its pink-rose rays over morning clouds, softening the San Diego mountain peaks. She hunched her…